song 9

a.
Relay
A foot lifted for a walk Friday
Friday’s a traveler
Walking away
Handing off to the
Caitlin Hammaren Memorial 5k
The future road
Agapé
At tempo
Morning coffee, clarity
Of the cold this spring
Coffee wakes us up
The driving flowers, bulbs held back a day
All the white shirts out of the closet and in the air
En français, s’il vous plait
Know her by maps
A superior voice. A blue sock. A stamp. A ribbon
Strand. Of. Hair
Quand elle était petite et dormait à coté de sa mère
Knew her
For my entire life
Best friends ever since
I’ll grow old and say less
Best friends with silence
A stone in a stream, or comet, or a guest

b.
As best I can remember
Game of telephone – message losing fidelity
You walk by the field and are suddenly
Living out perfect charity
Fields, nearly empty
Morning coffee, clarity
Of the cold this spring
Startling the small deer that live in the leaning trees
Gleaning before the season – building debt to sense
Off the idea of blackberries, in the air
Wings at her ankles she was a runner
When she was small and slept by her mother
Grow old, say less
Best friends with silence
A stone, comet, guest

c.
Walk, walking in
Relay,
She recognizes you:
Footprints in tar across the floor,
The scent of a shirt –
Bringing what hope brings,
Remorselessly.
Angel of truth, Ruth,
A gleaner
Blackberries off our fingers
And something made of glass I gave her
When she will have been 170 years old:
A kicking goat or the Fourth of July. A cracked bowl.
A few years ago
There was somebody you loved sitting in a chair
Facing the same direction as you, looking at the field
And thinking about healing
In the family;
There’s room inside a drum for the entire idea of the heart
Counting the beat on unexpected numbers.
Say anything you want
En français, s’il vous plait;
Talking; closing the place down.

d.
Relay
A foot lifted for a walk Friday
Handing off to the 5k;
Fracture road,
Agapé
At tempo.
Pulaski Fire Company’s
Annual pancake breakfast;
Morning coffee, clarity
Of the cold this spring.
The driving flowers, bulbs held back a day;
All the white shirts out of the closet and in the air.
En français, s’il vous plait.
Strand. Of. Hair
Quand elle était petite et dormait
À coté de sa mere.
Toutes les chemises blanches
À sortir du placard et en l’air

e.
Walk, walking in
Relay,
A foot lifted for a walk Friday
She recognizes you:
Footprints in tar across the floor,
The scent of a shirt –
Bringing what hope brings,
Remorselessly.
Pulaski Fire Company’s
Annual pancake breakfast;
Morning coffee, clarity
Of the cold this spring.
The driving flowers, bulbs held back a day;
All the white shirts out of the closet and up in the air.
Blackberries off our fingers
And something made of glass I gave her
When she will have been 170 years old:
A kicking goat or the Fourth of July.
A cracked bowl.
A few years ago
There was somebody you loved sitting in a chair
Facing the same direction as you, looking at the field;
Room inside it for an entire idea:
Strand. Of. Hair.
Quand elle était petite et dormait
À coté de sa mere.
Toutes les chemises blanches
À sortir du placard et en l’air.
Wings at her ankles, she was a runner
When she was small and slept by her mother.
Grow old, say less.
Best friends with silence:
A stone, comet, guest.

f.
Fracture road,
Agapé
At tempo.
All the white shirts up in the air
Quand elle était petite et dormait à coté de sa mère

Knew her
For my entire life
Grow old say less
Best friends with silence
Stone, comet, guest

g.
Relay
Say
Anything you want
En français, s’il vous plait
Telephone losing fidelity
You walk by the field and are suddenly
Living out perfect charity
Morning coffee, clarity
Of the cold this spring
The driving flowers, bulbs held
Back a day
Agapé
Talking;
Closing the place down.
Startling
The small deer that live in the leaning trees
A voice. A blue sock. A ribbon
Sestina, villanelle
I’m willing to change everything for these

h.
En français, s’il vous plait.
Gleaning before the season – building debt to sense
Blackberries off our fingers
Relay
Foot lifted for a Friday
Friday’s a traveler
Walking away
Game of telephone
As best we can remember
The Fracture Road
Five kilometers
Agapé
At tempo
All the white shirts up in the air
Strand. Of. Hair
Some clothes need sewing
A superior voice. A blue sock. A stamp. A ribbon
Wings at her ankles she was a runner
When she was small and slept by her mother

Grow old, say less
Best friends with silence
A stone, comet, guest

Strand. Of. Hair.
Quand elle était petite et dormait
À coté de sa mere

prime
Relay
The Fracture Road
Agapé
At tempo

Wings at her ankles she was a runner
When she was small and slept by her mother

All the white shirts out of the closet and up in the air
Her voice. A blue stamp. A ribbon
Strand. Of. Hair
Quand elle était petite et dormait à coté de sa mère
Pulaski Fire Company’s annual pancake breakfast;
Toutes les chemises blanches a sortir du placard et en l’air

Morning coffee, clarity of the cold this spring
Fields, nearly empty
Startling the small deer that live in the leaning trees
Gleaning before the season – building debt to sense
The idea of blackberries

Footprints in tar across the floor,
The scent of a shirt –
Bringing what hope brings,
Remorselessly. And
Something made of glass I gave her when she will have been 170:
A kicking goat or the Fourth of July. A cracked bowl.
A few years ago
There was somebody you loved sitting in a chair
Facing the same direction as you, looking at the field
Talking about healing
Closing the place down.

Knew her my entire life
Best friends ever since
Grow old, say less
Best friends with silence
Stone, comet, guest

I thought I heard something rip but it was in me
Be with me as I’m with you

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